


i can stand you (and don't you go forgetting that)

by Cheesecloth



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anxious Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley says Ngk (Good Omens), M/M, Post-Apocalypse, Pre-Relationship, Soft (tm), Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26531257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheesecloth/pseuds/Cheesecloth
Summary: Crowley's anxiety of Hell and Heaven and whatever else have predictably returned.Surely there was something Aziraphale could do to soothe him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	i can stand you (and don't you go forgetting that)

The late morning light filtered through the shop. It's been days since the events of the Apoca-whoopity-doopsie, and every morning ray of light has felt like nothing short of a wonder. 

Crowley was here early today. Or, well, he hasn't left since it all went down. But he did nap quite a lot in the backroom. He usually wakes past noon, though. His posture was tense as he delicately skimmed through Aziraphale's numerous titles. Has it always been so tense? Aziraphale had seen what the demon's body looked like when it was relaxed during their corporeal switch. Aziraphale is somewhat of an expert of denial. Do mind, the 'somewhat' is certainly not itself a denial. Anyways, he knows the gentle pleasures of relaxation, even while his mind is nervous and skittish beyond reason.

He looks at Crowley. The poor boy hasn't relaxed in ages. Though he does remember their victorious date at the Ritz. That beautific smile as they ushered their 'to the world's was the gentlest, most effortlessly relaxed he'd seen the demon. 

The days have gone by, though. Crowley's anxiety of Hell and Heaven and whatever else have predictably returned. 

Surely there was something Aziraphale could do to soothe him. To share the constant thrum of auspicious content that the angel has felt for the past few days at Crowley's side. 

The demon wasn't too far off. Only a few tempting steps away. 

Aziraphale found himself striding forward quite easily. Easier than it has been in 6,000 years. In fact, it's the easiest thing in the world to pull the sulking demon into his arms and tut at him quietly. 

Crowley made a rather Crowley-esque noise that one might call a short keyboard smash. To Aziraphale, it was little more than an undignified but very cute squawk. 

If his feathers were out, Aziraphale is sure they would be ruffled. 

"There, there, my dear," he soothed. 

"Ngk- angel, what's, hh, what's this then?" the demon squirmed, restless and confused. 

"Well," Aziraphale said, "I've been lamenting about how appallingly few times we've embraced over the years and thought I should put it to rights. Hmm.. For all your sharp angles, my dear, you're quite soft." 

The demon bristled more, but ever the oxymoron that he was, he also relaxed in Aziraphale's arms. 

"'m not soft," the soft demon grumbled, turning his head into Aziraphale's shoulder and sighing. 

"Mm," Aziraphale hummed, "yes, yes. Not soft at all, dear boy." 

"Rgk... Yeah. Mn.... Whatever." 

And then Crowley sagged into his arms completely, absorbing his heavenly warmth and breathing deeply. His weight was nothing to the Principality's ancient warrior strength. Crowley just let himself be held. 

Without another word or protest from his sweet demon, Aziraphale raised a hand and scratched very lightly at the back of Crowley's neck, where the last of his short hair faded. He'd never seen him so soothed and at peace. He stared at the shock of red hair burrowing into his neck and smiled at the feel of Crowley's arms slowly encircling him and giving him a small, weak squeeze. 

They stood there for what felt like glorious minutes. But when Aziraphale finally blinked at looked at the window, he was astonished to see that the sun's light had moved so far. Was it nearly night? They had scheduled a dinner at the posh little restaurant down the road. Aziraphale tapped his closest friend lightly, with no response. 

"Oh," Aziraphale breathed. "You're asleep," he whispered with a smile of awe, "we'll simply reschedule then."

He doesn't mind standing for a while longer, holding his dearest loved one for hours more. For days more. 

There are negligent, silly little things that he can't stand. Like miracling his clothes instead of feeling the fabric on his skin as he pulled and tied it together in familiar routine. Like listening to a single note of The Sound of Music. Like the way Americans 'brew' their tea in the microwave. He can't stand some things of this world, despite the desperation to save it. 

But this? He looks once more at the demon in his arms, a slight hiss instead of a snore. This he can stand. 


End file.
